Wife of a Malfoy
by Scribe Teradia
Summary: A glimpse into the life of one Mrs. Malfoy, written from Astoria's PoV.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's world, obviously, because Draco would have been cooler if I did.

**Author's Note:** I've had this idea in my head for a while now, doing something from Astoria's point of view, of what life must be like married to Canon!Draco. Then I started writing it and couldn't stop and got this little gem.

**Wife of a Malfoy**  
by Scribe Teradia

Astoria opened her eyes, blinking in the soft glow of early morning light filtering through the white lace sheers she'd insisted upon for the bedroom windows. She rolled onto her side, her hand falling into the empty space where her husband should have been, the soft cotton too cool beneath her fingers, telling her that he hadn't come to bed last night. Again. She wasn't sure if she should be irritated by his absence or grateful for it.

With a sigh, she extracted herself from the covers, frowning just a little when it occurred to her that they were quite the mess. Nightmares, again, which came as no surprise whatsoever, but the fact that she didn't remember any disturbing dreams was mildly worrisome. She ran her hands over her stomach, just starting to swell with the life therein, and considered sending an owl to her Great-Aunt Rosemary, then dismissed it. The midwife had said she was fine, that the baby was fine, and surely a professional would know more than some crackpot Great-Aunt? Daphne would laugh herself sick if she knew her younger sister was entertaining such thoughts, and Draco... Astoria didn't really want to think about what Draco would say.

Turning her head, she caught sight of her reflection in the full-length mirror mounted on the far wall. She straightened her shoulders out of habit, studying the outline of her body in profile, the extra roundness of her middle barely noticeable now, but becoming moreso by the day. "I love my husband," she told her reflection, but she didn't look at all convinced of this even in the mirror, and she had to wonder who she was trying to fool. "I /will/ tell him tonight," she declared to the empty room. "It will be different, this time."

A popping sound from the corner startled her, and she whirled toward it, only to find one of the house elves looking at her. "Is the missus all right?" it asked, timid as all the Malfoy elves were.

Astoria straightened again, abruptly remembering her position as the wife of Draco Malfoy. "I'm fine. I'll be down for breakfast shortly, in the atrium today." She tried to sound cold and unfeeling, the way her mother-in-law so often could, but to her own ears sounded only a child trying to play at being grown-up. The elf, however, squeaked and fled, leaving her alone to prepare for the day.

Fifteen minutes later, Astoria Malfoy descended the grand staircase of Malfoy Manor, her attire elegantly simple: a pale green blouse and slim black skirt cut to mid-calf, accented by a pair of low heels and a strand of antique pearls. Honey-blonde hair was pulled back in a French twist, held up by a pair of emerald-studded silver combs he'd gotten her for their second anniversary, back when he was still bothering to remember their anniversary. She caught herself, shoved aside the traitorous thoughts with a fierce, breathless whisper, "I love my husband."

"Of course you do, dear." The voice was Narcissa's, and Astoria turned so fast she almost fell off the last step, her eyes wide with panic. Draco's mother gave her a small, mirthless smile and glided forward with a grace that Astoria envied. "Do be careful, child," she cautioned, reaching for the younger woman's hand and drawing her down the stairs. "Women in your condition must always be careful."

Panic shot through her again, and she yanked her hand back. "How did you know? I haven't told him yet, haven't told anyone, how could you possibly know?"

"Calm down, Astoria," Narcissa snapped, her harsh tone breaking through the younger woman's terror. "I, too, was a Malfoy bride. A mother would do anything to protect her son, even from himself."

Astoria gaped at her for a moment, feeling quite stupid, and then her hands moved to cover her stomach, protectively. "It won't be like last time," she said, annoyed with herself for sounding so defensive and weak in front of this woman.

"For your sake, and his, I certainly hope so." Narcissa looked her over, and Astoria couldn't help but wonder what was going on in her mother-in-law's head. "Come sit with me for a moment? We should talk, you and I."

"Of course." It was absolutely the last thing she wanted to do this morning, having been part of the Malfoy household long enough to be wary of the phrase 'we should talk.' Malfoys never just /talked/, they looked at one with cold eyes, analyzing every flaw, and while the words might be civil enough on the surface there were always barbs and hidden knives, traps for the unwary. She trailed Narcissa into the elegant sitting room where the older woman often entertained the wives of the wizarding elite, hesitating for a moment before sitting gingerly in a chair that wasn't at all comfortable. "What--"

"Have you ever wondered why Draco has no siblings?" the older woman asked, without preamble. Astoria felt her appetite slip away, icy fingers of dread creeping into her heart and squeezing. She couldn't bear to move, terrified of what her mother-in-law was going to say but unable to flee the way she wanted to. "I was with child four times before Draco was born."

"What happened?" Astoria whispered, horrified.

Narcissa gave her that look again, that smile that wasn't really a smile at all but instead conveyed how weak and naive her son's wife was. Then she leaned forward and murmured, in that cold voice with the sharp, sharp edges, "I love my husband."

Astoria fled, knocking the chair over in her haste. Back up the stairs, twisting her ankle halfway up in the treacherous heels but stumbling into her bedroom in spite of the pain. She slammed the door shut and flung herself onto the bed and sobbed, heart breaking, mourning the lost innocence that she had sold for the price of the Malfoy name.

*** * ***

When Astoria woke, hours later, she could sense that she wasn't alone and sat up with a start. There was still light filtering in through the sheers, but it was different, more golden, late afternoon instead of early morning, and Draco sat in the armchair where he often sat rather than disturb her sleep. His hair was mussed, fine platinum strands sticking up in places, and the dark circles under his eyes seemed even darker in the waning light. The crisp white shirt he'd worn to work was rumpled, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and her eyes strayed to the inky black brand on his forearm, the permanent mark on his pale skin that she'd only ever seen a handful of times. "Draco," she whispered, her stomach twisting until a wave of nausea washed over her.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and had the warning of the bedclothes rustling before his weight settled beside her. "Astoria. How are you feeling? Mother said you'd been up here all day."

A flash of anger knifed through her terror, and Astoria saw with perfect clarity that she'd been played. Narcissa had deliberately manipulated her, and she'd fallen neatly into the trap. She took a deep breath, then sat up straight and looked at her husband. "I'm fine. Just a little out of sorts, is all. Draco, there's something I have to tell you."

He stiffened, beside her, and she knew he was preparing for the worst, for bad news, and it made her feel a little triumphant that her words would have no hidden barbs. She found her gentlest tone, reaching for his hand and twining her fingers with his, looking up at him as she said, "I went to see Healer Griselda yesterday. She said we can expect a son in seven months."

"A son?" he repeated, his jaw dropping with disbelief. "Are... Are you sure?"

"I had her check twice," she replied, watching as the news sank in, elation dawning on his face.

"A son!" he breathed, leaning in to capture her lips with his own. It was a fervent promise, that kiss, and for a while it even wiped away the pain of the day, healing the wounds his mother had caused with her words.

It wasn't until later that night, nestled in the crook of his arms, that Astoria realized he'd not once reciprocated when she told him she loved him, and fear gripped her heart once more. She started to move, to get up, to move his arm, but her hand stilled when she noticed the mark beneath it, the sight of that awful snake branded into his flesh making her go cold all over.

Draco stirred, beside her, opening one silver-grey eye and taking in her expression. His arm moved, beneath hers, his hand cupping the curve of her stomach in a way that made all the fear just melt away, reminded her of why she loved him so much. "I am not my father," he whispered, into her ear. Not the endearment she'd been hoping for, and there was a part of her heart that bled just a little more for the lack of it, but it was a reassurance of its own. He crooned the words to her again, a soothing balm after the heartbreaking words of his mother, and she finally drifted off to sleep. Draco was not his father, and never would be.

**The End**


End file.
